


rhythm.

by GRIMMInsanity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Emotional, M/M, buddy!castiel, caring for the downtrodden, closed off emotions, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 14:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GRIMMInsanity/pseuds/GRIMMInsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He would find the raw wounds, the tight nerves, the hidden world that was Dean Winchester, and whenever the angel made a mistake, stepped in the wrong place, he was thrown out, away from his charge. He would have to relearn the ways of stepping through that torn and scarred world.</p><p>Those times, when he was allowed back in, when he could reach the inner core of pain and self-loathing and despair, he would feel his very own core shiver and shake.</p><p>His Father had made humans, had made Dean Winchester, and in those moments, he felt so very small to the well of emotions, of feeling, of truth, and of pain, that seemed to out weigh his own power, of his own true-self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rhythm.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grumpycatfaces](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=grumpycatfaces).



»

rhythm.

They always had this sort of movement to them, Castiel noted.

Sam and Dean always had a way of doing things that fell into a sort of routine for them. Read newspapers and articles, drive to where they were needed, find out more information, track down the monster, clear it out of town, and then, leave again.

There was never a difference from this idea.

Sure, they had their moments of rest and brawls, but they were always back onto this set idea that they did what they were meant to do.

Two brothers, following the family business, and never straying from that ideal.

Only when Castiel came into the picture did it change.

Not by much, of course, but just enough that it threw them for a loop.

Then, it had been the battle of Heaven and Earth and Hell, the rebellion, the liars, and the cheats. Brother against brother in more ways then one, and it was not easy to find that flow again.

There were lulls, however, when cracks could be found in the strongest of men, and yet, nothing could be done. Cas was often shunned away from both brothers, but as he went along with them, helping them when he could, he found out things about them. Sam, so very inclusive upon himself, hardly ever spoke about what he was feeling, but after a touch of prodding here or there, it would slip out, and then, he could tell Castiel the most raw of his emotions. He always noticed the way Dean would settle himself into his own wounds, snarling and pulling away from any contact to help. Someone always came before his own needs, and Sam had to understand that.

So many would consider them on two ends of the spectrum, but in a way, they both understood they were important to Dean, and so, they willed themselves to acknowledge one another. And now, Sam needed that acknowledgement, that obvious chance for help. And as a young man who knew of angels and believed in them in the face of his brother’s doubt, he asked for help.

Dean needed it.

Dean wouldn’t ask for it.

So, Sam would have to ask for him.

And Castiel answered.

It started slow, with Cas being there during the moments of Dean’s weakness, when even Sam could not help him, and at first, he was snubbed, was walked out on, and he could do nothing for it.

Soon, though, those moments of weakness, however, were opened up to him, and Castiel felt a feeling of true joy funnel through him. He was not one for these.. human ‘emotions’, but he found sense in them right then. The feeling of quiet happiness at being allowed in, being allowed to help, if only by giving his presence of a hand upon a shoulder, was gratifying to him.

It was as if he was walking on a battlefield with an infinite life of healing and resurrection.

He would find the raw wounds, the tight nerves, the hidden world that was Dean Winchester, and whenever the angel made a mistake, stepped in the wrong place, he was thrown out, away from his charge. He would have to relearn the ways of stepping through that torn and scarred world.

Those times, when he was allowed back in, when he could reach the inner core of pain and self-loathing and despair, he would feel his very own core shiver and shake.

His Father had made humans, had made Dean Winchester, and in those moments, he felt so very small to the well of emotions, of feeling, of truth, and of pain, that seemed to out weigh his own power, of his own true-self.

In those moments, he would take hold of Dean, and allow him that momentary reprieve from everything, that moment of ease of relax, and to breathe.

Those times, when he allowed the man his moment of peace, to let go, brought forth a tiredness to Dean’s face and body the next day. He would seem so distant and so far away, but as Sam would bring him back to a conversation, to a hunt, to a jibe, there was no hidden pain, there was no harsh bite or lash of his tongue. There was a true contentedness that was found in the older brother’s eyes, and a hand upon Sam’s shoulder would help him understand how much he was cared for in that moment.

It was during those times, that when they went back to work, Sam would offer the angel his most heart-felt of looks of sadness, at not being the one to bring his brother to this point of contentedness, but in true thanks, that Castiel had done something so monumental as this.

Dean was growing happier, more accepting, and for that, Sam was truly grateful. And Castiel was allowed that entrance to Dean, that privileged passage that only one other had been allowed.

The angel felt himself honoured to be brought so close into this fold, and with that feeling, he grew to further love these humans, his humans, and no matter what they did, nor how they sinned, Castiel would love them. He had found his own flow, his own beat, his own place.

They had all found their rhythm, he supposed.

**Author's Note:**

> Just an answer to a drabble prompt that grumpycatfaces gave me on tumblr.
> 
> I could do more if people sent me some, so. 
> 
> For now, though, this is all.


End file.
